A Night at Ross...

   I've always been... different. I could determine certain things about people without ever having to speak a word to them. Call it a "sixth sense", if you will. I can just feel it. When I look at them across the street, when I'm standing next the them in line at the grocery store, and the strongest, heaviest, most burdening of them all- when I look into their eyes...
   I think I've learned fairly well by now how to shut it out, block it. But there are certain times when I just don't even try. I just let myself tune in to the emotions of another person, feel what they feel, not quite knowing what they know, but experiencing what they're experiencing at that moment in time.
   One night, when I was checking out at Ross, the cashier was an elderly lady, probably in her late 60s or early 70s. For some reason, I really don't know why, I let my wall down for the first time in quite a while. I started thinking, but it was, well, weird... It was like I was probing with my thoughts to find one that aligned with what she was thinking, and when I felt like our thoughts matched, I was able to feel the flood of pain and loneliness she was experiencing. Suddenly I could see it in the way she folded the clothes, the way she counted my change, her posture, her gaze... All I wanted was to, in some way, reach out to her, take that pain away from her, let her know that some one out there DOES care about her, DOES want her alive, ENJOYS her presence. But I didn't quite know how... So, when she was finished and handed me the bag, I mustered up the most sincere smile I could, the most sincere "have a great night" I could. I'm not sure how much it affects her now, but I could see the hesitant, yet very apparent(to me, at least) change in her eyes, from lonely and descouraged to slightly happy and warm... So I hope I helped in some way, at least, I just wish I would have done something more... And I knew even then that I could have done so much more...
Why am I so afraid of people? Even those who are hurt?

George !!

I just can't get enough of George... he's the greatest. (: And he's so photogenic I love it!

Once again...

Once again, I find myself missing him... Once again, I remember it's all my fault... Once again, I know I can never go back...
And once again, I realize even if I hadn't made the mistake I did, if we had never gone the ways we did, if we had stayed best friends... the outcome would still be exactly the same.
It's funny how we always find some one to blame for everything that goes wrong. How we can't just except the way things are, and move on. We have to dwell on the past, hating the mistake that supposedly "caused it all to go to hell"- whether that mistake is ourselves or some one else's fault.
Take my case, for example. For over a year now, day after day, never ceasing, not even in my sleep, to think about how badly I messed up. Regretting everything I said to him, everything I thought, my actions.
Yet time and time again I'm reminded that it isn't my fault. That whole show was simply on the side-lines. A cover-up for the real crime... It's even in my journal, during the time I hate thinking about- I obviously didn't feel the way I remember feeling. I cared about him, I wanted nothing more than to be there for him when he needed me. But I never loved him... not until I lost him.
And logic tells me that, even if I hadn't pretended to love him, I still would have lost him. Would I feel the way I do now if I had never made that mistake? Only God knows...
But maybe I wouldn't have to blame myself with every breath I take.

I wonder if he realizes it isn't my fault... if he ever forgave me... I know I sure haven't.

A Short Story

  This is something I wrote quite a while ago, but recently edited it. I don't typically write like this, or even write short stories for that matter, so it's unique for me. I'm sure it could use some more work, but here's what I've got now. Enjoy!

  She didn't know why, she was strangely attracted to him. But then, how could she not be? His face... He was so beautiful.

  She had not the slightest idea where she was. She didn't notice. She didn't care. Her life only mattered, was only worth living, if she found him. Where was he?

  A glimpse! Just a mere flash in the corner of her eye, yet she knew instantly that it was him.

  Something wet landed on her pale skin and she jumped. That's when she realized it was raining. And dark. Very, eerily, dark. A cave lay up ahead. She decided to seek shelter there until the rain died down.

  Thunder clapped loudly as the sky flashed blue while she entered the mouth of the cave. She pulled her long, brown hair behind her shoulders, then froze. She could feel his presence. Yes, he was here.

  A faint smile traced her plump lips as she inhaled his scent. It was a heavenly, bitter-sweet smell, and she could not resist it. She had to emerge her whole self in this scent, or she felt she would rather die. So she walked further into the cavern, hoping to catch sight of him.

  As she stopped in the belly of the cave, some instinct willed her to look down. Her body became paralyzed with fear and she forgot to breathe. There, right at her feet, lay a skull. A real, human skull. She trembled in horror as she noticed the others. Lining the walls, scattered about the floor- everywhere she looked, she saw human bones. She began to run.

  She drew in a deep breath to scream, but just as soon let it back out through her nostrils. Her running slowed to a halt. She smelled him once again, much nearer this time than he had yet been. His scent calmed her. If she could only find him, he would help her, led her back to safety.

  Something- no. Some one snarled. Her eyes darted to all nooks and crannies as terror crept into every muscle in her body. She realized too late that he was one of them.

  She stood there, unable to move, willing god to take her life before he did.

  She gave a start as a warm, yellow liquid dripped from the ceiling and sizzled by her feet. Looking up just in time to see the fangs advancing toward her, she shrieked as she felt the pain. Death had entered her blood and burned within her.

My First Blog

Well this is it- my very first blog.
Why am I starting a blog? Because I can.
It was recommended that I do so by a friend of mine who also blogs. She claims it helps relieve a lot of her stress, get her thoughts organized, etc. So I'm hoping to have somewhat the same result.
This post is really just so that I can edit the HTML. It won't let you do that unless you have a post.
So, that's all for now. Wish me luck as I embark upon this new adventure in life known to the world as "blogging."